We will never forget, but I don't want to understand

Last Monday I changed the mode on my alarm clock from "radio" to "bird chitter".

During the course of the morning I unfollowed on Facebook every source that used to update me on breaking news.

When I walked to work, I deliberately looked away from the newspaper stands outside of the shops I passed.

All of these actions were grounded in the same basic motivation: enough is enough.

Though in reality, it isn't enough. It's just getting started.


It seems we've become a country of reluctant news junkies here in Norway. It's been nine months, but the memories of the horrors of the events on the 22nd of July last year are as strong as ever. We've been through stages of shock, sorrow and anger, and now it is - perhaps - the time for comprehension. At least I think that is the reason why even those of us who rather would close our eyes to the whole thing still feel obliged to pay some attention to the circus that started last week: the trial.

It's absurd, of course, to even try to comprehend the - in lack of a better word - evil that lies behind the killing of 77 people in two coordinated attacks. One bomb. Several hundred gun shots.

I'm not sure, though, that it is beneficial to comprehend too much. It lies in our nature, perhaps, to try to figure things out, to understand, to explain. But in reality, I don't want to have to spend my time or energy on this man. I don't even want to hate him - what purpose would that serve? Reading about what he says or has written makes me feel ill. His picture too. That face I don't even want to know, but which has been etched in so that I will never forget the pudgy, pale, wax-like skin; the narrow, close-set eyes; the much-talked-about post-surgery nose.  The other day I made the mistake of watching a video clip of him to hear his voice - and I found myself thinking it was feminine and cold and disgusting. Objectively speaking, I am sure he looks and sounds no worse than the next guy, but I cannot be objective. And it bothers me, immensely, that I don't want to be. I want to feel physically ill from looking at him or hearing his voice, and consequently, I am letting him affect me more than he deserves.

The focus on him - the terrorist whose name I don't even want to say or write - annoys me. Obviously it's difficult to avoid, the attack having been a one-man-job. I get how this character fascinates people. The combination of a delusional self-image and extremist political ideas, plus the will and ability to go through with his [insert ten minutes worth of thoughts to try to come up with an adjective that accurately describes this. "Gruesome", "cold-blooded" or "morbid" didn't quite do the trick] plan. As a mental case, he is doubtlessly interesting. But I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm a regular person wondering whether it's really necessary to spend so much time, ink and words on a man who already hurt us all so much.

Ironically, here I am spending both time, words and the electronic equivalent of ink on him.

In reality, though, what ought to be the focus isn't him, or his wacked ideology. Rather, his actions should be. He will be prosecuted for what he did, not what he believes in. It seems the media forgot this detail.

I have faith in the system. I trust that the court will pass a fair judgment, under the available laws. I trust that this will mean that he will never again set his foot outside a prison as a free man. And that will be that. Until then, I don't need the details. I don't want to spend more time than necessary on this. I don't want to give him that.

Why You Under No Circumstances Should Buy Books As Christmas Presents

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Christmas is drawing near. I’ve noticed. How could I not. As some of you know, I work part time in a bookstore. Since I finished my thesis (which explains my recent absence, and my even recenter return), the “part time” has become full time. Or rather, all time, at least until all Christmas presents are neatly tucked away under plastic and pine trees all across the country. You see, until I start “real” work in Tokyo, Japan, early 2011, I am trying to save up money so that I won’t have to live on nothing but rice and ramen noodles during my stay in Japan. Consequently, I work a lot.

Now, why am I telling you this today, on a Reading Monday? Well, the key word in the previous paragraph was “bookstore”. As Christmas is nearing, people are climbing out from every hidey-hole to purchase Christmas presents. Books make excellent Christmas presents. As an employee in a bookstore, I am obliged to say so. But in reality, I secretly wish people wouldn’t listen. You see, pre-Christmas in a bookstore (in fact, in most retail businesses, I would imagine) is CRAZY. Bonkers, absolutely nuts. And not the good kind that requires a nutcracker. Gone are such trifle things as courtesy, politeness and common sense. (If you don’t believe me, you should read what a very wise person wrote on this very subject almost exactly a year ago. She even wrote about it more than once!)

Now, I don’t have a problem with people buying books, in general. It’s people buying books as gifts. You see, this constitutes a problem because a)this often means they ask for recommendations beyond the stage “if you liked X, you will like Y” (in fact, many want me to tell them what to buy for people they know next to nothing about, and they expect me to come up with brilliant suggestions); b)this almost always means they want the books gift wrapped.

I don’t know how common this is other places in the world, but in Norway, at least, most bookstores offer gift wrapping as part of the service. Usually this is something I don’t mind, as I actually enjoy it, and books are easy to wrap anyway. The problem is that during December we usually have several times as many customers as usual, and they each buy more books per head than normal. And most of those books are gifts.

Let’s do some math (because, as a historian, that is what I most capable of...). The previous Saturday was the third to last Saturday before Christmas. This, in all likelihood, makes it the third most busy day this year. We were open from 10 am to 7 pm, 9 hours total. Judging by the total amounts of earnings that day, and a broad guess of the approximate average total spending per customer, I think it is fair to assume that we had about 400 customers in the store that day. When it’s a busy day like that, I spend between 30 seconds and 1 minute per customer, if the exchange consists of nothing else than the normal polite phrases, paying for the purchase and putting it in a bag. That even includes writing a gift receipt and giving out a pre-rolled roll of wrapping paper.

Now, after having worked in the business for some eight years, I am a speedy wrapper. However, even at my pace, it’ll still take 30 seconds to 1 minute extra per book per customer if they insist on gift wrapping. That means that the time spent per customer is at least doubled, possibly tripled (and so on, depending on the amount of books they purchase).

If we assume that we had 400 customers (and remember I am only counting paying customers. Thus, anyone [and this is a considerable number too] asking a question but not actually buying anything, is not accounted for in this example) this Saturday. That means that the total amount of time spent on customers without gift wrapping is 400 x 1 minute = 400 minutes = 6 hours and 40 minutes. If you add one gift per customer, that doubles the time, hence we’re up in 13 hours and 20 minutes. Of course, I’m not alone in the store, so our 9 opening hours are multiplied by the number of employees. On Saturday we were five (but none of us work the entire shift – so in total we had about 35 hours of total employed time). You might say that out of 35 hours, a little over 13 hours in handling customers is not so much. True, but remember that this does not account for the non-sale exchanges with customers. We all easily spend between two and three hours answering questions, recommending books and giving directions to the exact location of books. This means another 15 hours. In addition we spend time on unpacking things we’ve ordered, contacting customers that have ordered books and tidying up the store (Christmas shoppers are also messy!).

Our hours simply don’t cover it all. All through December there are things left undone, and as a consequence, we try to limit the activities we can save time on. Like gift wrapping. We ask, politely, if each customer kindly would accept a complimentary roll of wrapping paper, which will save us some time, and limit the waiting line. Most people understand this, as most people know how annoying it is to wait in line. However, some people just don’t accept these terms. “I don’t have the time to do it” (Really? I’ve just told you, it literally takes a minute – perhaps two since you don’t have my training); “It looks prettier when you do it” (Perhaps, but honestly, how much of a difference does it make when I give you the same paper, and I am also willing to give you the same ribbon I would have used?); and my personal favourite: “I don’t know how.” Seriously. You don’t know how to gift wrap a book? It is flat, rectangular, and it doesn’t move around. If you don’t have the physiology to put wrapping paper around a book, I highly doubt you are capable of functioning in the modern society. You can navigate an iPhone, but you can’t wrap a book? Right...

I try not to argue too much with the customers who insist on gift wrapping even if it does mean longer waiting lines for everyone. Not because the customer is always right (that is a truth of moderation, if you ask me), but because it takes longer (approx. 2-4 minutes) arguing with a riled-up Christmas shopper than it does to wrap the darned book. But I sometimes make a point of picking a ribbon that doesn’t go with the paper. It’s just my way of spitting in their food.

Anyway, since I’m tired of having this argument, I thought it was time to settle it once and for all. Thus, here is a quick tutorial for how to wrap a book (feel free to go “duh” any moment now...):

Step 1: place book on an appropriately size of wrapping paper (the piece in the picture is slightly big, because I was too lazy to cut it properly). Warning! Beware of paper cuts! 

Mornings in Jenin by Susan Abulhawa is incidentally an excellent choice if you do insist on buying books for Christmas this year. Or for any other occasion for that matter. 

Step 2: Fold the paper around the book.

Step 3: Fold the other end in, and then around the book. Secure with tape.

Step 4: Fold and tuck in the right edge, secure with tape. Repeat on left side.

Step 5: Turn around. Voila! Wrapped book! If you want ribbon on the book, proceed to step 6.

Step 6: Pull ribbon around the book. Secure with knot. 

Step 7: Curl edges with sharp object, such as scissors. Warning! Don't cut yourself!  

Step 8: Curl up curled ribbon ends into ball. Tuck it under the knot. And you're done. Finito. It's that simple. I swear. You can do it! 

I may have bored you with my numbers and my mock tutorial, but the message is clear: please, please, continue buying books. BUT do you have to buy them as presents? And even if you do, reconsider asking the store personnel to gift wrap it, at least this close to Christmas... 

Reading Monday: Right and Wrong

It was in Grade 8 that I read my first Sherlock Holmes story. Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle" was in my English Reader, and I wolfed it down the very day I acquired my brand new pile of school books.

Holmes's style of detection was gripping, and the prose flowed gently - I should have enjoyed the story, but I didn't.

The note on which the story ended stuck in my gullet-
"Get out!" said he [Holmes].
"What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!" [Criminal]
"No more words. Get out!" [Holmes]
And no more words were needed.

I was fourteen then. A young and righteous fourteen. A fourteen who believed that crime was wrong, and that criminals had to be punished. A fourteen who had an inflated sense of justice. A fourteen who could not understand how a detective could allow a criminal to walk free.

Something was wrong with the world if criminals were allowed to go free, after a confession was wrung out of them. I asked my mother to explain, but either she couldn't, or she chose not to. I harboured a growing resentment against Arthur Conan Doyle, as I waited for the story to be taken up in class. Even before the English teacher could start the discussion, I put up my hand, and asked how a detective could allow a criminal to walk free. She fumbled, and fidgeted and finally came up with an answer so unsatisfactory, I realised I had to either find the answer myself or remain discontented forever.

For two weeks, I tried to convince myself that Sherlock Holmes was actually in nexus with the criminals, and I even picked up a book of his short stories to find proof to further that claim. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes was the book, and as I read those stories, the portrait of Sherlock Holmes started taking shape. Sherlock Holmes, the brilliant detective who lived by his own code of right and wrong. Sherlock Holmes, the man who was firmly on the side of Justice, even if it sometimes put him at odds with the Law.

That one book taught me that Right and Wrong are not absolutes. That sometimes it is Right to give a man who has truly repented his crime a second chance; to subject him to Law would only make a criminal out of him. The other stories in the book taught me that sometimes you have to bend the law in order to serve Justice

That has been a lesson that has stayed with me through life, and had guided me in taking most of the paths that I have taken. Had I never read that story, I may never have become the person that I now am. That is the power of the written word. Can anything else ever match up?
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Image credit:
Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective
Many Faces of Sherlock Holmes